The Other Side
by Leoshi
Summary: In a moment of thought, Rainbow Dash recalls the days surrounding her promotion to Captain of the Wonderbolts. She details the conversations and reactions of those close to her, causing her to question her old mentor and her new subordinates. She asks herself...was the choice made the right one? What did it mean to her? And most importantly, what did it mean to Spitfire?
1. Facing the Windows

**The Other Side****  
><strong>An entry-turned-experiment by Leoshi!

!Disclaimer!: So is this considered a military setting now? Does that give me any leeway to- no? Okay, well, the rights to the show, its content, the toys, and most importantly the MONEY, belong to Hasbro, Thiessen, and Faust. They're get paid to write their tales, and I only get insomnia. No legal stuff here!

**Chapter one:** Facing the Windows

I am Rainbow Dash, the Captain of the Wonderbolts. My team and I have achieved a lot in the years I have led them. We've performed spectacular shows and stood against threats to national security, and there have even been times when we would cooperate with the Royal Guard and my friends, the Elements of Harmony, when the situation went from bad to worse.

But understand me. I'm not going to talk about any of that. I don't want to remember the times I had after my promotion, whether they were good or bad. What I want to talk about are the final days leading up to the ceremony, and the turmoil I had to endure. Because in all the years since my promotion, I've never been able to find solid answers to a few questions...one of which is whether or not Spitfire was the biggest liar I had ever met.

I want you to listen to what I have to say. Pay attention to what I saw and heard, and maybe you'll spot something I never did. And please understand me; I don't want to go back or change anything. I have no desire to change the past. All I want are answers.

Understand me.

It was just a few years ago that she called me into her office, located on her prestigious academy grounds. I was a full-fledged Wonderbolt by then, and one of the team's star performers. My tricks and acts had nearly doubled the fanbase in the time I had served. Our reach went beyond the snow of the Crystal Empire and the fields of Appleloosa, and we constantly received fanmail from Baltimare and Las Pegasus. Heh, we even saw more foreigners from the Griffon Kingdom as the years went by. We were that good.

On that day, Spitfire had called for me to meet with her. It was common enough to get one-on-one debriefings with her, so I wasn't worried. She was standing near her bookshelf, pouring over some old records when I arrived. For some odd reason or another, she had left her Wonderbolt uniform on, taking the extra step to attach a few of her medals and awards on her breast. The uniforms weren't designed for them, but thankfully we had a dedicated tailor to repair them as needed.

"You pulled some good turns up there, kiddo," Spitfire greeted me as I strode inside.

I was always a 'kid' to her, a nickname that never got old. Though, interestingly enough, she was the only one to call me by the name, and then only in private. I still dunno if that made me special in some way, more than I already was.

But that wasn't how I responded that day. I simply nodded with a cocky grin, dusting off my own uniform before replying. "I'm good all the time. You can just say I pulled some normal turns!"

"Uh-huh. I don't think that's gonna happen," she began, closing and replacing the book. "First off, normal is what Sky Scraper does during our routines, and I doubt you wanna bring your level to his."

"Hey!" I flared. Sky Scraper had been my protégé for a few months by then, and I felt a great deal of pride for him. "Give the guy some time. Sure he's slow to catch on, but I've seen his stuff. Trust me, Chief, you're gonna want a front-row seat once he gets serious."

"And that's my second reason. Serious material is exactly what you're shy of. You're good, kid, but you're no Soarin'. What in the world was that shudder you had near the end of practice today?"

At that moment, I felt a sigh build up in my throat. Spitfire got like this constantly; questioning new moves and routines if the ideas weren't hers to begin with. "It's something Sky and I have been trying out. It involves water, but in the end, I'm supposed to flare out my wings and angle my withers. The result should be a cascade of water, like rain, going all over the crowd."

"I don't remember seeing anything like that in our briefing, Sergeant. How do you expect that to work, anyway?"

"I'd figure out a way. I didn't bother telling you because I knew you wouldn't like it, but I'm still gonna work it out in case you decide to bench Sky, like you kept hinting at during practice." I tilted my head forward, allowing a bit of an edge to my voice. It wasn't exactly an accusation, but it was not an innocent observation either.

Spitfire gave a small huff, a habit she couldn't control. She only did that when someone was right and got under her skin at the same time. "Picked up on that, did ya?"

"You're hardly trying to hide it. Look, there's nothing I can say now that hasn't already been said, so just give him some time. You got me where I am today - I know that I can do the same for Sky Scraper."

She shook her head, rounded her desk, and fell into her chair. The slump she achieved was obviously more casual than she would show otherwise, yet she still retained the precision and grace honed from years in her career. "You've got until next Summer Sun, Rainbow Dash. If your partner can't keep up with the rest of us, he's going on academy detail."

"Understood, ma'am," I responded.

"And that whole rainfall effect you're working out? Draw up some choreography for me next time, step-by-step."

A snicker took the place of my built-up sigh, and this time I had to let it out. "So you can make it look it it was your idea?"

"Hey, if it works, then I'll finally have an excuse to soak your head for every show. I can't pass up a chance like that!"

"_Right_. Show of hooves - who in this room once got trapped inside a broken water tower dome by a rampaging dragon?"

Spitfire controlled her embarrassed blush. "I don't know what you're talking about, kid."

That day was about to take a surprising turn for me, yet for some reason, I remember that conversation just as well as the one that followed. I guess I'm still trying to justify the way Spitfire left the way she did, or maybe I'm just eager to preserve the glory days of my old friend Sky Scraper. Whatever the case may be, what happened next is just as vivid as what had happened before.

"Sit down for a bit, Sergeant," Spitfire offered, shifting in her chair to get more comfortable. She ended up pulling a hind leg up on the cushion, letting her other fall freely. Her back angled toward a corner of her seat, allowing her to bend her spine around in order to relieve a few strains.

I, on the other hoof, sat down with my back ramrod straight. It was naturally awkward for a pony, especially a pegasus who was accustomed to lightning-fast direction changes, but it was a challenge I liked to put on myself.

Once I was settled, I prompted her. "Something else on your mind, Chief?"

Spitfire gave a grim smile. I remember that, and I remember thinking how odd it looked on her.

"I was able to chat with the el-tee a couple days ago. He's doing well, by the way - the therapy is just about finished, but even he's doubting coming back to the team."

I nodded. "I can't say I'm surprised. It's amazing how well Soarin' has been able to fly with us, given how long he's been with the team. He was on board before you were accepted, right?"

"Yup. But anyway, when I went to see him, his condition wasn't what we talked about." Spitfire gave that grim smile again, more profound the second time. It was like she was tasting a bitter truth before speaking it aloud. "We, ah...we actually talked about the future of the Wonderbolts as a whole."

That got my attention. Suddenly, any quick-witted jokes I had in mind were dashed. "I'm sorry, what?"

"The future of the team, kiddo - where it will go and how it will get there."

"Uh...okay, I know Soarin' is one of the best flyers we've got, but we can handle our routines without him, right?"

"True enough. We've handled worse and come out just as successful. However, that's not why he and I talked about it."

I couldn't respond to her at first. The best I managed was a tilt of my head.

Spitfire gave a small sigh, one that almost sounded defeated. With practiced ease, she reached around the side of her chair to a small compartment that I couldn't see. A moment later, she pulled up a folded piece of paper, creased along the middle. She gazed at it for a few seconds, giving her grim look for a third time.

"Read it," she ordered, passing the note across her desk.

After a moment, I unfolded the paper and carefully read each line. I instantly recognized Spitfire's mouthwriting, which was just as precise and graceful as her flying ability. Alongside her words, Soarin' had added notes and suggestions in the margins. A few lines had been crossed out in afterthought. However, none of that detracted from the general message of the missive, which was clearly to announce the retirement of the current Captain.

I poured over the drafted letter a second time, taking in the words and suggestions that had been collaborated upon. A few minutes passed in silence. Finally, Spitfire couldn't stand the quiet, and she blurted out "Come on, _this_ is what your slow at?"

Her outburst gave me a jolt back to reality. "Wh-what's the meaning of this, Chief?"

"First," she began, lifting a foreleg as though giving a lecture, "I need you to stop calling me that. Second, I need you to keep quiet about this. And third, I need you to get used to the idea of sitting where I am now," she finished with a light tap on her desk.

I mentally rewound to the words I had just read. My name had come up several times, in both Soarin''s and Spitfire's writing, with notes on how long a supposed training session would take. Being a star acrobat, I was able to connect the dots and see the meaning instantly.

"You can't be serious," I breathed.

"And why shouldn't I be?"

I didn't want to believe it. "This is a letter to announce your retirement! And Soarin' _agrees_ with this?"

"Of course. He was the one who reminded me of the notion."

"And why is my name mentioned in this?" It was a defiant shred of denial, but I already knew why I was named. It was obvious, really.

Spitfire scoffed, clearly just as aware how absurd my question had been. "Do the math, Rainbow Dash. You _can_ do math, right?"

"Ma'am!" I said, standing up from my chair. "Your retirement is one thing, but you can't expect me to-"

She lifted her foreleg, not moving from her seat. "Stop right there."

My words died in my throat, brought on by years of hard-trained habit. I leaned forward across her desk, the letter under my hoof. We stared at each other for a while. I don't know whether I should have been worried or angry - maybe it was a combination of those and more. What I do know is that while I felt my adrenaline rush through me, she seemed calm and in control. Ever my leader.

"Don't assume that we've just thrown this idea together overnight," she began in a low voice. I had heard that tone before; it was loud enough to hear, yet strong as a growl. It meant she was in no mood for jokes, suggestions, or interruptions. "You're no Soarin', kid - he is a follower, an extremely skilled one at that. He's been happy to be my wingpony for nearly a decade, when I took over from my old captain. But you're not a wingpony, are you? You're more like me. You're a leader."

Slowly, Spitfire swung her hind leg down and stood from her own chair, rising to meet my gaze. Like me, she placed her forehooves on the top of her desk, matching the width of my own exactly.

"We've had a conversation like this before. You weren't content to be a wingpony, least of all working alongside a pegasus who threw caution to the wind. I've been watching you ever since we gave you the uniform, and I firmly believe you've got what it takes."

More defiance welled up in me, and I ached to speak my mind. But her gaze only intensified, and I knew better than to open my mouth.

"You're better than you give yourself credit for. I've seen you give up hope for an award to help those in need, and even pull off amazing stunts to do so. When you did those stunts, everyone who saw you had every reason to believe you would lose control and crash, like Soarin' did last time." The sour memory made her visibly grimace. "But I've also seen you stand up for what you believed you deserved - and even better, what you just plain _believed_ in. Now, I can't say whether or not I share these heroic morals you pride yourself in, but I can't deny that they've shaped you into something incredible. I want you to take the reins from me, Rainbow Dash, and the time is soon coming for you to do just that."

Finally, my calm cracked. Just enough to allow a murmur. "You can't do this to me."

Spitfire's eyebrow rose, sensing a challenge. "Except this isn't about _you_, is it? It's about the future of the team."

"I don't think-"

"Don't answer yet," she commanded. "I don't want your answer today. This note is only a draft, you know. It's been a long time since a captain has left the Wonderbolts, so we're out of practice. It will take some time to get the boring stuff out of the way - legal counseling, official statements, the press, _et cetera_. I'd give it about two weeks before the announcement alone goes public, and another few days after that before the replacement is also announced. So you've got two weeks to decide if you want this."

Time to think it over? I had an answer for her right then, but my will to speak had left me. I stared blankly for a moment, still leaning over her expensive desk. Suddenly, the note under my hoof felt like a heavy, metal plate. My flight suit felt stifling. A quick thought of Twilight went through my head - if she were in my spot, she would probably have asked for books about leading a flight team.

"Look on the bright side, kid," she continued, finally losing the hard edge to her voice. "As a Captain, you can keep Sky Scraper as long as you want, _serious_ material or no."

I got angry, though to this day I can't really explain why. Maybe it was the way she talked about my wingpony, like he was still a boot. I respected him; why couldn't she? I snorted and pushed off her desk, taking a step back at the same time. Her note - no, her _retirement plans_ - caught air and floated to the floor.

"Hey, it's just a fact," she said in defense.

Slowly, Spitfire walked around her desk and came to my side. She picked up her paper and slid it onto her desk again, face-down so neither of us could read it. Then she went around me and opened the door, exposing the hallway beyond.

"Head on back home and think it over, Rainbow Dash. Take the weekend off, fly to Canterlot, catch a movie, visit your friends - it doesn't matter, do what you want. But think it over, long and hard. That's an order."

I didn't move at first.

"C'mon, kiddo," she urged, "I didn't get my space heater to warm up the hallway."

I finally turned around, looking her in the eye again. Her gaze was stern, like what I was used to seeing, but there was a bit of warmth in it too. Like she knew exactly what kind of burden she had just placed on me.

A question formed, and it was out before I could stop it. "Have you ever regretted becoming Captain?"

For a split second, her gaze changed. Her eyes widened a hair and a brief dance of thought caused them to glisten. Then her mouth tightened, her ear twitched almost imperceptibly, and the shine in her eyes vanished. Anypony else might have missed it. She answered without missing a beat.

"Never."

That answer would stick with me for years. I could never figure out if Spitfire was telling the truth. I've rationalized it to myself, believing that she told a half-truth because of how I responded to her plan. Something to help ease the news based on what she saw in my reactions. I only think that because I also saw more of her in that subtle shift when she answered than during our entire talk.

**End chapter one**

Author's comments: This was going to be my entry in the FIMfiction Rainbow Dash writing contest from last year, but I never found enough time or ideas for it. Now that I'm able to branch out a bit, I'm converting this story into an experiment in first-person, past-tense writing. This is the first major scene of the idea, and I've got more to submit, but they will come in later chapters.

Thoughts and suggestions welcome. First-person writing is new field for me.


	2. Facing the Sun

**The Other Side**

By Leoshi, who strikes while the iron's hot!

!Disclaimer!: In spite of my best efforts (and loftiest dreams), I'm still quite poor and in need of real talent. That said, I have no right to claim ownership of MLP: FiM. Instead, you should focus your thanks on Faust, Thiesson, and the crew behind them both for creating so much.

**Chapter****Two: **Facing the Sun

Quite the bit of news to drop on me.

I do know that Spitfire looked at me as I walked past her, but I didn't bother to look back. I felt betrayed, to be honest - despite the opportunity she was giving me, I couldn't shake the fact that my world had just been turned around. Sure, becoming Captain of the Wonderbolts was a nice pipe dream, but I never expected it to happen so soon. I had always concerned myself with reaching goals, not _creating_ them.

The sound of her office door closing was quieter than I thought it would be. I found myself alone in the academy hallways. It wasn't too much longer until I pushed against some metal doorways leading outside. The evening sky greeted me, but the glare of the setting sun made me turn away for a moment.

The sun burning my eyes is what I eventually blamed for my headache later that night, but something else happened before it hit me. After a few minutes of walking down the academy roads, I realized I wasn't alone. There at my side, mouth pulled into a comical frown, was Sky Scraper.

Looking at him forced me to stop walking. "What in the world is with that goofy face?" I asked.

He stood straighter. "I'm trying to look like you."

"What?"

Sky held back a grin, but I caught the glimpse of one. "You've been walking around all serious for a while. I'm trying to see what the appeal is."

I was the first one who laughed. I hadn't expected to that night, and it felt good. "Heheheh. Good luck, buddy. You're gonna need to work for a long time to look as good as me."

Finally, he broke down and smiled, looking me as he did so. "Pfft, you should see yourself right now. What happened to hitting the mess after practice today? You're still dressed for show!"

Oh.

"Ah, well," I stammered, "let's just say I had a debriefing and leave it at that. Besides, I don't know if I'm hungry right now."

"Mm-hmm, _right_. Well, I hope you decide soon. Tonight's dinner will be tomorrow's breakfast. And tonight's was corn."

"Oh, great. How do they expect us to eat old corn for breakfast?"

Sky gave a sympathetic nod. "I know, partner, I know."

Let me explain this joker here. Sky Scraper joined the Wonderbolts about two years after I was accepted. Before then, I was working academy detail during his visits, just like some of the other Wonderbolts were working when I first came here with that troublemaker Lightning Dust. During his trials, he managed to talk me into giving away free advice, and he's been at my side with a readied question ever since.

Don't get me wrong; Sky is a good pony. Fun to be around, a little over-anxious when it mattered, but always good-hearted. Two years after meeting him, he was accepted into the ranks. A few months later, when it came time for annual pairings, I hoof-picked him from the line of other trainees. He and I often spent time together outside of practice and shows, sometimes just relaxing, sometimes putting our heads together to make up new stunts. While he was by no means the best flyer on the team, he had creative ideas that we often incorporated into our newer routines. I mean, sometimes I took the credit, but hey.

Of course, our constant back-and-forth had spawned recurring jokes about whether or not he and I were an item. When he caught wind of it, he told everyone that he had a girl waiting for him back home in Cloudsdale. He even pulled out photographs of her when his story was doubted. He's proven faithful, which by no means has stopped the heckling we got from others - or from each other when the joke felt right.

"So what's got your overworked flank so tense?" he asked. We started walking again, neither of us really choosing a destination.

Memories surged of my recent encounter with Spitfire, which both wanted me to talk and caused me to bite my tongue. What'd I tell you? He always had a question.

He picked up on it. "Not in a talking mood, huh?"

"I'll talk," I said defensively. "I just...can't tell you."

"Rainbow Dash, holding on to secrets?" He feigned a swoon, which looked _very_ bad on a guy. "I never thought I'd see the day!"

"Oh, stuff it, crybaby. I'm under orders."

He huffed. "Like that's stopped you before."

"Nuh-uh, this isn't about a show."

"So...?"

"No, Sky!"

He turned and looked at me properly, his smirk disappearing like sand in the wind. I had surprised myself too - had the news really affected me that much? Well, that's a bad question. I mean, of course it affected me, but now I was biting off the head of my wingpony just for prodding. That wasn't like me.

I turned away and swallowed my pride. "Sorry," I mumbled. "It's been a bit of a rough afternoon."

Sky Scraper hesitated for a couple seconds, then nodded. His smile returned, though I noticed it was a bit more reserved the second time around. "You need to blow off some steam."

"No, I'm fine, really."

"Horseapples," he spat. I couldn't help but grin. "I know a tightened knot when I see it, and you're still in uniform anyway. Let's hit the track."

I turned my head at the suggestion, looking behind me. At the other end of the walkway we were on was the aerial track, which was often purposed for obstacle courses, endurance training, or full-tilt races. Anything we needed it to be, really. I still have fond memories of the records I set within those gates, and that evening was going to join them.

The track would look like a mess of colored lines to outsiders, but each color served a purpose. Different colors followed different paths, forming their own numbered circuits for races and warmups. Simple turns began with the number one and went up from there, with the harder routes starting with five.

"Yeah, I guess I could cut some air," I replied, turning around and starting down the road. "But what about the mess hall? Won't it close soon?"

Sky chuckled. "Oh, finally decided on being hungry? I'll let you have some of my girl's cookies if you like."

Suddenly, dinner consisting of corn seemed like the stupidest idea ever. "I like the sound of that. Beach Breeze does make some fine cookies!"

"You like 'em, huh?" he said. "Tell you what. You beat me, and I'll let you have first pick."

A challenge. "Oh-ho, what, are you _trying_ to embarrass yourself?"

"Embarrass? _I'm_ not the one smelling like gym clothes and stress."

A challenge it was, then. "Screw you."

He laughed. "Shower first, then we'll talk."

We crossed the distance in a little over a minute. Turned out that one of the staff sergeants was holding after-hours drill for his cadets, but Sky Scraper and I were able to walk right in and find a good place to watch. It wasn't long before the sergeant spotted me.

"Well, look at this! We've got ourselves a celebrity!" he called. Some of his cadets broke attention and looked over. When they realized it was me and Sky, the rest looked over too. "What brings you down, acrobats? Surely you're not here to fawn over this group of hatchlings!"

Sky chuckled. "Sir, we're looking to use the track to settle an argument."

"And what argument would that be, Wonderbolt?"

I cut in before my partner could deliver the one-liner I _knew_ was on his lips. "Whether the Airpony here-" I nudged him in the ribs, "-flies like a brick or a boulder!"

A wave of laughter rose up from the assembled cadets. Even the drill sergeant showed a smile. "Well that sounds like one hell of a decision. Cadets!" he shouted behind him. "Let's run through this exercise one more time. If I feel like you worm-eaters have learned anything, I just might let you watch this brick fly! That sounds like a great idea, doesn't it?"

"Sir, yes sir!" The response was rehearsed and came as a unit.

The sergeant rounded on them. "Then quit looking at them and get at attention! You birds only get to see Dash the Flash in your filly magazines, understand?"

This time, the reply was staggered as boots tried to straighten themselves out. "Sir, yes sir!"

I couldn't control my smile, but I was able to hold back full-tilt laughter. The banter brought back memories.

Sky nudged me back. "A brick, huh?"

"Or a boulder," I said, almost like that made things better. "You certainly crash like one."

He and I fell into silence as we watched the drill sergeant put his company through more calisthenics. I can't remember what exactly they were, but I do know that the sun was setting lower and the entire scene looked almost symbolic.

My mind drifted back to my meeting with Spitfire. I couldn't help but wonder if this would become my life - gathering and training generations of guards and performers for Canterlot. It was certainly a noble calling, and I found myself wearing a stupid grin. The title appealed to me, there was no doubt there. Becoming Captain of the Wonderbolts carried the rank of Chief Master Sergeant, a full two ranks higher than what I was. After all, calling Spitfire 'Chief' wasn't for nothing.

There were definitely perks I could make use of. The facilities, for one thing. I'd handle the ins-and-outs of all the prospective Wonderbolts and Royal Guard pegasi who came knocking, and having places to train them was important. I had often whipped up some wild ideas for additions to the buildings or what went on inside them. The fact that _corn_ was on the menu had also spawned some ideas.

For another thing, there was the honor of holding such a title. I knew Spitfire well enough to know that her job wasn't easy. Leading the best fliers in the world was a weighty responsibility. But even she had orders to uphold, most of them coming from royalty. All the same, Spitfire was able to handle it all. She was tough as nails and twice as sharp, and I had never seen her break.

...well, that's not true. I had, but not that evening. Her _big break_ would come a week later.

Looking at the exercises, I realized just how much appeal there was in leading the Wonderbolts. Training new generations of ponies who would have just as much heart and soul as my friends back home...

Sky tapped my wing for attention. "Now I _know_ something's bothering you. I've never seen you this quiet before."

"Mmf," I groaned.

"Look, I understand you're ordered into shutting up, but aren't there _any_ beans you can spill? I'm worried you'll stay out here all night at this rate."

"What? How would that even work?"

Sky pointed toward the track. "Dunno, but the track has been cleared for all of thirty seconds and you haven't moved."

"Oh." I blinked the sun out of my eyes and focused. "Well how about that. That didn't take long."

"Sure, but still...find your head, Dash. You've got a race to lose," he goaded, leaping over me and gliding to a starting point. My pride demanded I follow him. Nearly all of the new recruits had stayed behind to watch our game, so not only did we have an audience, we had judges. A few colorful callouts came from the crowd.

"Last chance to tell me something," Sky prompted again, lowering his head in preparation for a kickoff.

I matched his form. "There's nothing to tell."

"Alright, then, you keep your thoughts caged, and I'll worry about feeding you my dust."

He was baiting me to react, but I had already focused on the race. At that point, his words become just another distraction. "Circuit?" I asked, wanting to figure out what kind of race track he wanted.

Sky waited a moment, finally giving up on getting answers. "It's been a long day. Let's do six-bravo."

That was an advanced track - harsh for new recruits, but common practice for Wonderbolts. "Fifty laps?"

"What, are you sleepy? Either break a hundred or get off the field."

At that moment, both of us fell silent. The drill sergeant came out and counted down for us, stepping right in front of the sunlight. His presence created a harsh glare that caught us off-guard, so both Sky and I had a hard time seeing the first turn once we kicked off. And just like the talk with Spitfire, the glare stuck with me for most of the evening, and long after the sun finally dipped below the horizon. After all, it's tough to ignore something when you keep coming back to it.

**End Chapter Two**

Author's comments: This one was tougher to get out than I had anticipated. It seems that creating a new character (who distinctly _isn't_ a villain) is more challenging than sticking with canon background names. Not to say there isn't a certain magic to it; I just found meself building Sky Scraper more than I was Rainbow Dash. But not to fear - I'm sure this will pay off down the road once I decide what I want to do with him!

Once again, this is an experiment for me, so _please_ help me out by addressing what I'm doing wrong. I'm not fluent in military jargon, and most of what I've put here is a mix of Google research and firsthand accounts of people I know in the Air Force. If I offend anyone due to my poor fact-hunting, sorry! I just write stuff, and I try to make it legitimate.


End file.
